Echoes Bittersweet
by Dreamslippers
Summary: As Nero moves, memories unbidden come through.


**Echoes Bittersweet**

And soon they all say.  
"Such, such were the joys,  
When we all, -girls and boys-,  
In our youth-time were seen,  
On the Echoing Green

-William Blake, The Echoing Green.

The park smelled of summer-blue, of apples and children on the swings. It made the dirt and blood on the boy's face a bit more stark than it usually was. His blue shirt was worn and scuffed in several places and the aching wounds of his small body cried when small warm fingers gingerly placed bandages on them.

The silver haired boy bites the insides of his cheek for a moment as the pain sears his body, feels the temper creaking tight against the chain.

"It's okay Kyrie. You know I can patch up a lot faster."

The girl shook her head. The wind ruffles Kyrie's auburn hair and for a moment the boy's nose caught the whiff of peaches from the orchards just beyond downtown Fortuna.

"Stay still. Mom says it'll heal better when its closed up like this."

"... shouldn't have punched Jacob's face. " remarked Credo. The older boy had his bruises albeit far less in number than silver haired Nero sitting beside him. Brunette strands fell across his face, making it hard to read the boy's already unflappable mask.

"What should I to do huh!?" Nero growled, anger spiking deep within him like a lit brand. "It ain't right that Jacob and his friends keep saying bad things to you two!"

"I could just talk him out of it, like how a knight should."

"You're no knight!"

"Not yet." Credo proudly replied.

And this is what Nero liked about him; for all the bad things his temper could throw him in, Credo was there ready to steady him. He didn't care about the back gossip and superstitious talks about Nero from the other kids or the adults.

All he did was follow up to his knight of a father's creed, and lived up to it.  
It did make him look stiff and uptight the most part.

"Done!" Kyrie's voice cut through their chatter. She straightened up her flowing brown dress as she stood on her feet. She held both of her arms out to the boys on the bench.

"I know you two still have some energy! Come on, another wheelie please!" she pleaded.

Both boys looked pointedly at each other before Credo broke into a small smile.

"Alright then." Her brother held on of his hands on her. They walked further into the open park, ignoring the stares of the other hooded adults and the rest of the children before forming a ring of hands. The silver haired boy grinned as they started to spin.

Was this how family should feel like?

Nobody in the orphanage cared for the strange boy with heretical white hair. He had his fill of awkward stares from the other children, the constant loneliness, fighting.

But this? This is nice.

Both he and Kyrie whooped as the force stretched their arms further and farther out.

* * *

Round and round, Nero's arms strained at the force of the sword, his footwork barely keeping up with the whirling torque. Blade humming as it cleaved through burlap hidden scarecrows with ease. The compact engine housed atop of the blade's hilt and forte rumbled a mechanical growl as its intake vents drew air edgewise before blasting it out the back with explosive force, each hew and swing amplified tenfold.

There was a certain point where gyroscopic sensors within the sword's hilt and fuller would trip the rev limiter at the engine, limiting Angus' Caliburn sword series to sporadic bursts of power. It's useful in ploughing through thick demon hide, without the user's arms tearing off from holding on the sword.

But this was no Caliburn.

For all it had its features, this one was tuned without its rev limiter- making it an uncontrollable tyrant in most hands. But to Nero, this one finally acted like a queen. Even the more robust flesh of the larger scarecrows parted almost without effort once he gets his groove.

An Assault raised its shield as Nero streaked through, alchemical treated steel clashing hard into the thick bony surfaces of the shield. The force of it backing the lizard-like demon to the tree while the residual strength of the move drove the blade deep through bone and into scaly forearms.

But, the shield held and the demon had a handful of talons ready for his demise. Its malicious glare was levelled at his azure's as a vengeful snarl growled deep within its stout throat.

Cursing, the Nero quickly let go of the sword as the talons clawed their way through the empty space of where he was. His legs kicked off the ground as he flipped, left arm taking out his double barrelled revolver - the Blue Rose from within the folds of his Order issued coat before firing a shot in one quick motion. The demon dropped dead even before the delayed hollow round could pierce its skull.

Quick reflexes alerted the hunter just as two more scaled reptiles rushed in to avenge its companion. Nero had been too preoccupied with the sword's performance, allowing both demons to come too close for him to execute proper reposition!

Nero grimaced, turning to parry with the revolver's side. He just hoped whatever forces these demons dish out wouldn't break something vital inside it. The days it took just to find and customize the gun was painful enough to think of as it is.

He worried for naught as another blade came rushing in, the mechanized purr of Durandal whining through the crash of sword and scale. Almost impeccable was Credo's officer attire of white and gold, gliding through the air as he rode through his sword's mid air swing. He leaped upon landing, following the tumble of demons reeling from his charge. In that split second of motion, he cleft the head of one before impaling the other with Durandal. A slight turn of the wrist switched its mechanized breathing to silence.

"And as I've told you before, skill always trumps in the end. Not with that." He points distastefully at the Blue Rose "Nor this." He motions to his sword as he extracted it from the bloody, disintegrating corpse.

"Shove the lecture Credo. What does the Order want?" It's been some months since Credo's knighting ceremony. The dream the man had chased finally reached.

A shame that their- our parents couldn't see that.

The demonic attacks that slipped past the watch some those months ago... It changed him, just as Credo was growing further and further from him and Kyrie.

There were fewer times when he could even get the knight to talk with. Where was his brother when Nero was on the Watch; the times where he knew Kyrie would need someone to lean on in their old estate?

Credo had been practically been living in the Order's castle!

Nero gnashed his teeth as he ripped the sword from the fallen demon's shield.

"Commander Leo has us collect more samples for Agnus' studies. I've come with my men to deliver them." The knight of the paused, " You on the other hand should be back in the training grounds. Squire."

"Well , well... look who's talking." Nero hefted his tuned sword.

"If this is about Kyrie, we've already discussed this." Credo cuts.

"You're her brother damn it! We're supposed to stick together."

"I know that! But that didn't save mother and father did it?" Credo breathed deep, and continued. "We can't be little kids forever Nero, and the Order can help us grow stronger."

"'Think so?" Nero sneered, tapping his sword on his shoulder. "You know, the job's been good and all. But no matter what the top says, I don't think Sparda's coming anytime soon. I know he didn't when they died."

He twirled the sword in a graceful arc before planting it, point first into the ground. " Care to eat your words Credo?"

Credo face hardened as he raised his sword. "You will regret saying that. Brother."

The sound of Nero's sword revving echoed in the forest clearing.

* * *

The Red Queen burned bright as the devil hunter revved his sword in full. Air and volatile propellant ignited deep within the stylized hilt-engine before storing them in pneumatic demonsteel canisters set within the base of the blade, each only awaited for a squeeze of the lever beside the hilt to release their burning contents in an explosive flash of fire and power. All the while, excess flaming air escaped from three sets of exhaust nozzles curving out of the sword.

It was far different from the one he had lost in his fight with the Saviour years before. But between knowing the blueprints by heart and Nico's drive of one upping her dead father- the new model of Red Queen was better than ever.

Now, the burning blade warded the cold autumn breeze as both swordsmen faced off in the clearing of Mitis Forest. Some days have passed since the Sons of Sparda have returned from their sojourn in the Underworld. It did not take long for the eldest among them to request a rematch of their duel.

Vergil wore his coat in dark twilight hues. The serpent and vine scrolling on his long coat writhed in windswept patterns as he assumed his opening forms; a thumb on the guard, while his right hand was cocked and ready to draw. All done to move slender Yamato to superhuman velocities, so much that it could kill at a distance far beyond the edge its steel. That is not to say of the demonic sword's innate ability to divide the very fabric of space.

In all the similarities their blood may share, their differing approach to battle was not one of those traits.

Nero has a sure, rough swagger in his moves that he must plan and commit to- for the Red Queen does not allow any half measures midswing, the skillfull seesaw dance between power and control. Vergil is calm, methological in his approach with the Yamato. He brings it in rapid bursts of violence that is tempered by a keen mind, luring the enemy into false perceptions until the very last second.

"Yeah kick his ass for me kid!" Dante cheered. He lazed with Lady beside the Fortuna branch of Devil May Cry, while the other hunter watched the proceedings in amusement. He held up a large cone of strawberry sundae in a mock salute before munching on from beyond the solid seals that lit a shade of red as Trish finished setting the last of the bounderies.

"Think you can still beat me old man?"

"Don't get too cocky." And the cambion was off, Vergil's coat a blur as the son of Sparda moved too fast for the eye to tract. The glint of Yamato all but vanishing in the bright sunlight.

More gut feeling than relying on his senses, Nero shuffles; a quick hop back before pulling the lever of his sword with his index and middle. The sword blade roaring as his swings pushed him forward and out with fire and brimstone trailing in its wake. His gamble rewarding him as in the next moment, Vergil's flickering form solidifies within the reach of his cleaving blade. The curved edge of Yamato clanging loudly with Red Queen's.

The motion could've ended there, but the enhanced strength lent by the Red Queen's engine augmented Nero's already burgeoning power, pushing his father back as the elder Dark Slayer swiftly parried the next two scorching sword strokes coming in rapid succession. Then Yamato slid and flew; cutting down towards the young hunter's chest.

Nero twisted, using the remnants of his swing's momentum to push himself out and over the side of Yamato's killing arc, smirking a taunt as he jumped and mock-airsurfed the large blade. A twist of his wrist allowed the Red Queen to breathe in the next charge of exceeding propellant.

"Foolishness Nero! Foolishness." The elder twin shook his head, he faced his adversary in slow even steps- stalking with calculating purpose.

"The fool who persists in folly will become wise."

A curved arch of a brow crossed Vergil's features.

"So you've been reading."

"It was quite the page turner." Nero shrugs.

His old man disappears once again.

"Hey tough guy! Ain't it 'bout time you use one of my masterpieces?" Nico and Kyrie stood at the far edge of the clearing. The former curious to see how her works of art held against a Son of Sparda, the latter to give support to both swordsmen.

"Just warming up here!" Nero dove down just as his father came rushing up, hyper sharp Yamato cutting in a spinning orbit just where he once was. The young hunter hitting earth just as a series of sharp cutting air came speeding towards him. Once more he spun and leapt, the prosthetic Gerbera's shockwaves propelling him away just inches before the sword pressure would have shredded him, all while the discordant sound of Yamato rending space ringing his ears.

"Right..." Wings unfurled a moment, evading summond blades sent his way before aiming the Red Queen to his father on the ground below, diving. "There!"

They crashed into melee, traditional skill and modern style clashing in rapid exchange. Nero sacrificed the use of his Gerbera in a flash of mechanical debris to escape being skewered. Then ethereal buster arm smacked his father across the chest in the ensuing chaos, not after Yamato's scabbard suckered him hard on the stomach. They separated briefly before exchanging another series of moves.

If Nero was being honest, fighting his father without Dante weakening him was much, much harder. But there's something exhilarating fighting him like this, less because it was a test of whether or not he was really up to the challenge facing a legend; more so because it was how both men seemed more comfortable communicating in- action rather than words. The thought of Credo briefly lingers at the forefront of his thoughts.

Yet there was something the young devil hunter had been meaning to ask. The margins of the old book of poems held more than a few interesting things than poetry notes, acting more of a journal than a source of amusement, seeing the dates and scribbles doting the book. Dating far back, even before his birth.

Did you love her?

The words echo within his mind as Yamato finally found its mark upon his right shoulder. The blade erupted out of his back, and just as quickly it was removed.

Pain greeted him like an old friend, stinging and cold. But after years of holding its cruel embrace to fuel his own passion, Nero has found it easy to now let it slide. Reeling, he reached for the proffered gloved hand; only realizing he'd been kneeling, left hand clutching the Red Queen as a crutch on the ground.

Its mechanical heartbeat was notably silent, making that ringing absence of a person so much louder to his ears.

"I wish she was here."

"No." There was a pregnant pause before Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She lives on, in you and don't you forget that... Son." A shadowed hint of a smile graced his father's face as the rest of his family gathered around them.

* * *

Notes:

This was born from my rambling thoughts how Red Queen could possibly work in real life. A series of miniature ram jets slotted into the blade? Maybe the more simpler pulse engine design with Nero's strength to compensate the lack of optimal air intake for ignition? I dunno...

Of course it'll be practically impossible to wield properly but what the heck- Flaming Motorcycle Engine Swords are cool yo!

The other inspiration was from PrecariousSauce's Writing in the Margins who I'll dedicate this to, shout out to them for the story! Vergil writing in his book of poems would feel so apt after learning about V.

I wish we get to see Vergil's mom done right. Like what Dan Southworth had said about the matter in a recent interview and I paraphrase: 'It's a secret close to his chest. It has to be significant, Nero's mom has to be something worthy of his time.'


End file.
